Black and grey fine line script lettering runs along the side of two bare feet near the ankles, one line reading Maybe in distance, but never in heart.

Script quote tattoos along two feet

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of two bare feet resting on bedding, each with a line of cursive script tattooed along the side. The left foot reads Maybe in distance, but never in heart, while the text on the right foot is only partly legible, running in a similar fine script. The ink is crisp and even on the soft skin, and the image is framed close to the feet with the fabric blurred behind them.

Lettering Fine line Ankle Script Quote Lettering Feet Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ice came onto the dyke before the geese had gone south, and Sarah Tollett was still counting sacks in the barn when the carrier's boy came shouting up the lane. He had a letter folded twice and sealed with a blob of wax the colour of rust. It was from her brother Tom, who had gone east to the herring ports the summer after their father died and had not written since Michaelmas.

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She sat on the upturned bucket by the stove and read it with her coat still on. Tom wrote in a hand that leaned and hurried, the way he had always talked. The boats were good, he said. There was a widow in Yarmouth who sold eel pies and would not take his money. Then, at the foot of the page, he had written a line, crossed it out so hard the nib had torn the paper, and written it again underneath, small and careful: Maybe in distance, but never in heart.

Sarah folded the letter along its old creases and put it in the biscuit tin with their mother's ribbon and the brass key to a door nobody locked. Then she took down the pen. Frost was thick on the inside of the window, and her breath had made a clear patch the size of a thumb. She wrote that the dyke had held, that the hens had stopped laying, that the old sow had farrowed eleven in a snowstorm and lost only one. She wrote that the kitchen lamp was lit every night now and left burning until the bread was cut.

The wind dropped on the third night. By morning the geese were back on the flood, honking over the grey water as if they had never left. Sarah buttoned the reply inside her coat, walked down to the carrier's cart and told the boy to take it to the coast road. Then she stood in the lane until the cart was a speck, and went home to trim the wick.